


Where He Belongs

by TearyWriter



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: All the way from pre-canon to the end, Angst, Author is a horrendously slow writer, Canon Rewrite, Depression, Don't expect this to end in 100 chapters, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Guilt, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28550781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearyWriter/pseuds/TearyWriter
Summary: A breath seeped out through his teeth. It was just as bad as he thought. Then he noticed another paper on the back of the report, he pulled it up front and- what?He blinked and skimmed the title twice just to be sure that he wasn’t seeing things, but the words were still there, a letter of transfer. His head started to spin. Was he going to be transferred to that class? No. No. Nonono-He strained his eyes and kept reading the rest of the notice, clinging to a sliver of hope that it was the D Class even though he knew what it can only mean if he was given this notice.“... academic record failed to meet our standards,” he mumbled, his shoulders tensed up to stifle the gasps erupting silently in him.He took a slow deep breath and leaned back against the chair. This was it, he was truly done for.—It always begin with guilt and regret. Yoshiyuki Hirose is a student in Class 3-E at Kunugigaoka Junior High School.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	Where He Belongs

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is actually the rewrite of my original project, Never Enough. The reason I did this was that I overlooked one detail when I first published it and only noticed it later on, which ended up shaking the very foundation of what I initially planned, forcing me to go over them again as to not make that mistake again.
> 
> I apologize if it is going to take so long to update a new chapter here, I'm an infuriatingly slow writer that I hate myself so much, so please bear with me. XD

Yoshiyuki hopes that his parents haven’t found out about his grades even though it is nothing more than a pipe dream at this point.

He could not tell them how he had actually been doing in the last few months. Not after he remembers who they thought he was, a good boy killing it at school that they don’t need to be worried of him. That’s what he told them when someone asked how their son is doing not long ago so that they can be happy, or to at least spare them the painful truth while it still can hold.

This school is _killing_ and will be the death of him.

.

He heard many rumors about the E Class when he was a freshman. How hopeless the students there are, the teachers not cut out for their job, and how bad the building was—old and isolated. He didn’t believe it, really. No way it could have been that bad even for the lowest class, right?

If only the school was anything like people said when his parents enrolled him in here.

When he became a second-year, on one day, he witnessed a bunch of E Class students being sent off to their campus on the mountain far away by their former classmates and others alike, _laughing_ and _jeering_ at them. He overheard one of them boasting how she dropped her friends that were now in E Class from her address book and giggled with peers in a disgusting display of what can only be called _elitist disdain_. That was all he could _take_ before storming off without letting them know he was even there.

It was the first time he understood what kind of system this school was nurturing.

The second years, currently _his_ batch, that did poorly in conducts or grades will share the same fate as those seniors he saw; abandoned, barred from any activities they had a passion in, and treated like trash by the rest of the school. He didn’t wish to end up in that hopeless state, ever.

So he began reading the textbooks front to back, solving problems by going over those pages again and again until he understands it, and when he ran out of problems, he picked up some books from stores as well as searching out those videos on the internet that could offer a simpler explanation of what topic he was working on to him. This cycle of studying can be repetitive at times, but everything was alright, he got B and C in the first trimester. It could have been better, but he at least survived.

His parents took him out to a restaurant as their reward for his grades even though it wasn’t the most outstanding one. They knew that, but to be able to hold his own in a top school intensely focused on academics, and only academics alone, was an achievement in itself already. They couldn’t have asked more from their son.

They smiled with joy as they spoiled him with his favorite. He couldn’t help returning one to them as well. It was the best night he had in a while.

But lingering at the back of his mind was the knowledge that he still had two more trimesters to go. He hoped that he could keep up the performance this way until the end of the third finals.

He had no idea what the school had in store for him in the trimesters after.

One night, he looked up to the clock to see that he had been reading the same page in his textbook for an hour without progress. He put down the book and went to sleep that night wondering why it took him that long just to get over a single page. Whatever that was, he had to get it sorted out by tomorrow or he will fall behind.

He didn’t. He read the books and watched the videos so many times, but it never fell into place in his head. It was then that he realized he didn’t have anyone to fall back to when he couldn’t understand something well. He wasn’t friendless, but he didn’t have many like others in the class. Those few friends he had were always mingling with other groups of people he wasn’t acquainted with. There was no one who would always be there for him if he needed any help.

Tentatively, he cut himself loose from the troublesome topic to catch up with the rest. He felt a twinge of guilt stabbing into him for not sticking it out a little longer than he did, but he quickly shook off the feeling. There were other subjects that are just as important to focus on. He will come back to it later when there’s time.

He found himself reading notes taken since the beginning of the second trimester a week before the midterms just to be doubly sure that he didn’t miss or neglect any information that would be important to him during the exams. His head threatened to split apart as he pulled an all-nighter out of fear that it won’t be enough for him. If his parents ever checked up on him, then he didn’t know it. The lights in his room were always on, after all.

When the last subject was over, he was relieved that he managed to complete the exam without leaving his papers empty in any subjects. He didn’t know how, but at least he did, that was the only thing that mattered. Turning in with clean answer sheets would have earned him an F in that subject otherwise, so he’ll take it.

After all those rest he missed out for the midterms, he thought he could use some break he badly needed before he had to go round two with them again in the finals.

He hadn’t been to an arcade center ever since enrolling in the school, which was why he planned to spend all his summer days at. Chill out, forget everything else, and indulge in living the moment with video games. As much as his conscience protested it, everyone needs to blow off steam once in a while.

“Don’t get carried away and come home late,” his mother cautioned. “It’s dangerous to be out there alone.”

He nodded before leaving for the arcade. “I always stay away from people I don’t know.”

Fighting games were the only genre he was ever interested in. Danmaku, bullet hell, knows where to stick it and should do as such.

He played alone most of the time. People there were often dueling with their friends rather than someone they didn’t know. He didn’t mind that. He could enjoy some peace of mind without having to disturb anyone, although deep down, he wished he could bring someone to the place with him without being preached about how he used his summer break very _poorly_.

A girl walked into the arcade one day and cleared out the high score on anything she played like nobody’s business. As people gathered at her station to watch her maneuver her way through the flowering barrage, he peeked out briefly to see her in action before returning to his screen to carry on with his game.

She’s pretty good, he thought. To dodge all those beautiful patterns, _too beautiful_ that his eyes hurt, so easily.

Then he saw her going to the game he was playing next.

He wasn’t the kind that would go around to bother people and stuff, but who is he to turn away from challenging someone good at the only game he played to a fight? He can practically feel the thrill rushing through his veins as he looked at her astounded crowd when the “here comes a new challenger” sign suddenly showed up on their screen. This will be a good fight.

\--

Massacre. That was the only way he could describe the match.

He could do nothing but watched in shock and awe as she wailed on his helpless character in the air with a combo to death after making a mistake of falling for her frame trap and getting launched up for it. She sealed that round and the game with a perfect, earning her a round of cheering from her peers.

“Sheesh, she is _too_ good!”

“Yeah, bold of whoever it was that challenged her there.”

His face never shifted, but he was pulling back the frown that was trying to form up on him. She is a very good player and he respected her for that. She must have been playing this far longer than he was to be able to execute a combo with very tight timing that would have given him an opening if she whiffed any of the strings. That, and her tricking him into _trying_ to counterattack her, only to counter his with her own. It was a loss well accepted.

However, he wasn’t so sure if he could still say the same in the presence of those people around her, if they know it was him, that is. He doubted any of them even knew what was really going on in that game. They were just there to cheer for someone doing exceptionally well to the extent they could never achieve, and wonder why her opponent wasn’t blocking, then probably will ridicule him too once they found out.

There were many other people playing in the same booth zone as he did, so figuring out their mysterious challenger is not going to be an easy task, but he wasn’t about to risk himself to have a rematch with her and get caught by them. He didn’t come here to lose his temper over such a trivial thing and get into trouble, so he waited for the right chance when they were all too focused on her screen and coolly left the place.

If only her peers weren’t as many next time, then he’s all up for another round with her.

He never got that wish. A few days later, he saw a group of delinquents lounging about in the arcade and knew immediately to get out of that place and stay away from them. Wherever they go, there are bound to be troubles there, and he wasn’t going to stick around when that happens.

“You already home?” His surprised father asked.

Yoshiyuki stretched his arms upward. “The game was getting boring. I think I’ve had enough.”

“Good, you need to study up for the finals soon.”

He sat at his desk and read the note he made on what he didn’t get right in midterms. So many topics he still had doubt in that he thought there were too many of- _no wait_ were going to be tough work for him.

He shook his head. This _laziness_ he felt creeping into him just now, he didn’t like where this was going at all.

_Not at all._

Time passed too soon and the school gate swung open once again. He was not even halfway through with old stuff, and the joy, the subjects were just as complicated, if not more than so, as midterms’.

The next thing he knew, he was looking at his writing of what the teacher said, the drawing of the diagrams on the blackboard, and keywords he made out during the lecture in his notebook that he didn't quite understand what any one of them meant; except for a few of them that didn't take him anywhere forward.

Yoshiyuki wanted to choke. He looked at his results to see not one, but _two_ Ds in his grades — mathematics and science, the most compulsory of core subjects.

The less his parents knew about this, the better, so he hid the reports in his folder and went home with his usual happy face to tell them he got C in most of his subjects but still got it and carried on as usual.

The final trimester, nothing he did helped anymore. He was tired. He completely fell behind in studies, something in him coming to a crashing stop, and now he didn’t know what to do. His teachers' lectures end up floating over his head as he can't understand them. Instead, his thoughts drifted elsewhere to free his mind from the dump of information.

For the first time, it felt _good_ to slack out—like a painkiller releasing him from the headache stemming from his burdens. A disgusting guilty pleasure as his internal self screamed.

But, like any drugs are, dwelling in it too much and one could get addicted to it.

Everything soon stopped mattering to him—so distant and unimportant. Not even the stake of what will become of his next year sprung up to mind as he cruised through classes like they weren’t there.

When the third finals were about to roll around, his mind was blank. So _blank_ that it didn’t hit him that finals were coming until a week before the exam or when his classmates were being awfully diligent in class and lunch. He resorted to reading each subject’s textbook from the start to at least remember what was going to be covered in the exam and understand them the most he could.

He stayed up past midnight in a desperate attempt to fix it all and wanted to tear his own head off. He didn’t want to make them upset, he really was. He tried, **he fucking tried** , but he _couldn’t_ do it in the end. He was going to _fail_.

The moment of truth was there, and it went _so_ well as he expected.

_Empty._

Those papers might very well be _empty_ when he left the exam room.

It was only a matter of time before the overall grade reports would be delivered to his home and they will find out.

Yoshiyuki chuckled dryly at his imminent ruin, he’s in danger now, he supposed.

.

He grasped the doorknob... and prayed for whatever the deities up there to help him get through this alive.

“I’m home,” he announced dully, taking off his shoes and looked around the living room. There was no response. The light was already turned on when he got in, but no one was there. The TV his mother would always be sitting at to watch the news was not even turned on.

The home was quiet... too quiet. His hands were trembling with an ominous feeling writhing in his chest.

There was no “you’re back” greeting from his mother when he made himself known unlike usual. No news or weather forecast being reported either. Just, nothing...

He took off his bag and placed it against the sofa.

It’s after he called out for them that a voice spoke up from the dining room.

“Yoshiyuki, _come here_.”

He felt a chill run down his spine at his mother’s order... but not from the order itself. She wasn’t calling him by his usual nickname she always cherished, just a cold blunt saying of his full name.

 _They know_.

His parents were waiting for him and he will do exactly what they say because he simply couldn’t say no to them in the time like this. They will ask him the meaning of the grades they saw in his reports, how it wasn’t anything like he told them, and then demand to know why he had been lying to them all this time.

He treaded meekly into the room and there they were, sitting at the dining table with a chair pulled out for him between them. His mother was holding a paper—his _overall_ grade reports—in her hand.

His father turned to shoot an incredulous look at him. “We need to talk.”

The picture of being judged and scolded—overwhelmed and trapped with no chance to walk out or defend himself, for his lies could never be justified. Perhaps that was why he shuffled his way to the table instead of a usual strolling as his parents summoned him.

His mother placed his report card down on the table. “Yoshi,” she said sternly. “Why didn’t you tell us?” her voice rose as she slid the paper to him.

He picked it up.

A breath seeped out through his teeth. It was just as bad as he thought. Then he noticed another paper on the back of the report, he pulled it up front and- _what?_

He blinked and skimmed the title twice just to be sure that he wasn’t seeing things, but the words were still there, a letter of transfer. His head started to spin. Was he going to be transferred to _that class_? _No. No. Nonono-_

He strained his eyes and kept reading the rest of the notice, clinging to a sliver of hope that it was the D Class even though he knew what it can only mean if he was given this notice.

“... academic record failed to meet our standards,” he mumbled, his shoulders tensed up to stifle the gasps erupting silently in him.

He took a slow deep breath and leaned back against the chair. This was it, he was truly done for.

He never took his eyes off the papers as his parents kept calling his name to get him to answer their question, why he did it, but he couldn’t bring himself to give them the answer they wanted and deserved. They were in pain from this sudden revelation enough.

He lowered his head, staring at nothing.

_“I’m sorry.”_

.

Yoshiyuki snaps open his eyes to the deafening sound of his alarm ringing beside his ears that rip him out from his recollection and stretch his hand to slam the button irritably and disable it.

Sitting upright on the futon bed, he looks around. The room is still the same as he knows, just a round reading coffee table on the floor, a dresser, a wardrobe, and a bathroom door within his reach, small and simple.

He heaves a wistful sigh of relief. He is at his apartment again, _alone_.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he glances at the clock above him to see that it was half past seven o'clock in the morning when he woke up. He remembers that it is a special day today, but what is it about again? The uniform hanging on the wall gives him the answer; today is the first day of his third school year.

_Right._

He gives himself a stretch and yawns before getting up from his futon to fold it neatly. Then he pulls open the curtains to brighten up his room in the sunshine.

When he finishes his daily routine, he picks up his uniform, a grey blazer with similarly colored matching pants, a white shirt, and a black tie, and puts them on. He hoists his school bag over his shoulder and tucks his wallet into the pocket of his trousers, ready to head outside. He doesn’t forget to take a key lying on the round table with him before leaving his apartment and lock the door behind.

Today is his first day to the E Class, where he belongs.


End file.
